Turning Our Grief Into A Positive Message

August 3, 2010 at 4:08 am · Filed under Uncategorized

I was invited to speak at the SADD (Students Against Destructive Decisions) retreat in Springfield, IL last week.  It was a wonderful trip, and I had the opportunity to spend time with some wonderful teens from all over the state.  I also met with some incredible adults who worked with SADD and IDEA (Illinois Drug Education Alliance).  I’m hoping that they will be able to promote me to other schools to spread the message of the importance of wearing a safety belt while riding in a vehicle.

I tentatively have a speech scheduled for a local high school in the fall, and I’m hoping that by attending the SADD retreat, it will only add credibility to my purpose.

It’s bittersweet considering that I probably wouldn’t be interested in SADD if it hadn’t been for losing my sister Veronica in a traffic crash nearly 13 years ago.  I know that nothing our family says or does can bring Veronica back, but I also know if by sharing our story I can save one family from having to deal with the pain and grief from losing a child, then Veronica’s untimely and tragic death will not have been in vain.

I can only hope that I get the opportunity to spread the message, far and wide.

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Miss You “V.V.”

June 1, 2010 at 2:23 am · Filed under Uncategorized

Anxiety has its’ hands wrapped firmly around my neck.Let’s divide and conquer: It’s not because I’m speaking in front of 600+ people (which incidentally, is my first public speaking engagement.) It’s not because I’m unsure that my notes will be enough to get me through my 15 minute speech, and it’s not even because I lack a significant amount of confidence- I have a little bit, really.

It’s because I’ll be telling the story of how I lost my 17 year old sister Veronica, in an automobile accident almost thirteen years ago. I’m confident enough to know that I’ll be able to speak eloquently and cover all of the topics that I want to address. My fear is that somehow, unwillingly, I’ll let my sister down. It’s extremely important for me to know that our story, in all of it’s pain, grief, and pure agony, will not be in vain. Realistically and disappointingly, I know that the world is not so kind.

For the past eight years or so, our Mom was the one who spoke this message to numerous high schools. Who else was better than to pass the message along? After all, she was the one who had to bury a child who had so much potential. She was the one who grieved like no other, who literally fell to her knees the day we pulled up to the funeral home to make plans for a wake for a 17-year-old-girl.

I remember Mom telling me she was losing sleep several nights prior to the presentation, and her painstakingly going over every word that was incorporated into the speech. I foolishly thought I understood it then. With time, I realize that unless I’ve walked in her shoes, I will never know her pain. And honestly, with three boys of my own, I’m not so sure I could be as strong as her.

Ultimatley, I realize that my anxiety, fear, and hesitation is NOTHING in comparison to what my Mom went through. If she survived the worst thing that could ever happen as a Mother, than surely I can get through this speech.

Wish me luck. And most of all, God Bless Veronica.

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The Night That Changed Our Family Forever

May 28, 2010 at 10:38 pm · Filed under Uncategorized

Seatbelt usage is a great debate.  Many agree that wearing a safety belt saves lives and keeps you and your loved ones protected in the event of a vehicle crash.  Then of course, there are the naysayers who argue that enforcing (handing out tickets to non-compliant drivers and passengers) is simply revenue for local & state police, and that the government- “big brother”- are just out to get you. 

Perhaps after reading our story and seeing some graphic pictures, you will reconsider the importance of wearing a seatbelt.  You don’t have to agree with the law, but you do have to follow it.  For those who are angry because they received a ticket for failure to wear a seatbelt, or properly wearing a seatbelt, let me remind you that failure to wear one can lead to being severly injured, paralyzed or killed in the event of a crash.

Here is our story:

It started as any other “ordinary day”.  It was two weeks before Veronica was to begin her senior year in high school, and she was anticipating all of the fun things “Seniors” would get to do.  That day, the whole family went to lunch together.  Little did we know that was the last time we would share a meal together.  Veronica worked that evening, and when her shift ended, she came home and started to get ready to go out with some of her friends.  I was the last in the family to see Veronica alive.  As she left the house, she reached down and tousled my son’s hair (who was three years old at the time) and told him she’d see him in the morning.  But Veronica never came back home.

I had gone to bed around 10:00 that night, and the next thing I remember is my brother coming into my room and yelling and screaming that our mom was hysterical downstairs.  I was disoriented from being awoken, and I couldn’t put together what was happening.  When I went downstairs, the McHenry County Coroner Marlene Lantz was standing in my living room, and she told me that there had been a car accident in which Veronica was a passenger, and that she had died.  If there was ever a moment in my life that I wish I could change, it would be that moment.  All of the breath was sucked out of me.  My mom asked, “How do you know it’s V.V.?  Why are you so sure that it’s her?” With that, she pulled out the butterfly necklace that Veronica always wore, and it was then that I realized she was right.  My mom started screaming “No! No! No!” over and over again.  I started to make phone calls, first to the family, and then to Veronica’s best friend, and her high school sweetheart, who she had recently broken up with.  We were asked to come to the hospital to identify Veronica.  On the way there I remember thinking this was all just a bad dream.  My mom kept whispering over and over “She was my baby, she was my baby”. 

When we got to the hospital, they directed us to the room that she was in.  I remember the curtain being drawn open, and seeing her lying there.  My beautiful sister, still, lifeless, covered with a sheet up to her neck.  My mom immediately went to her, and kissed her and began to stroke her hair.  My Aunt kept whispering in her ear to “wake up, wake up”.  My younger brother who was 15 at the time, stood at her feet and just sobbed.  The nurses had done their best to clean her up prior to our arrival, but there was still some blood in her hair, around her ears, and on her lips.  I remember seeing the blood on the blanket, and the injuries to her face and thought, how is it possible that five hours ago she was curling her hair and putting on mascara, and now she’s here…dead?    I couldn’t believe the multiple injuries she sustained:  a skull fracture, facial cuts, broken collar bone, a fracture to her arm and leg, numerous broken ribs, a collapsed lung, and a fractured pelvis.  Ultimately it had been determined that she wasn’t wearing her seatbelt, and the driver of the vehicle who she only briefly knew, had been speeding at the time of the crash.  They were also in a borrowed Corvette, which is a powerful vehicle and the driver was inexperienced.   After the car struck a tree, it flipped and Veronica had been pinned beneath the car and dragged along the road.  When the paramedics arrived at the scene, she was lying face-down on the side of the road in a pool of blood taking her last breaths.  She had no chance of surviving; her injuries were just too catastrophic.  The manner of her death (violent, cruel, and unforgiving) was so opposite of the way she lived her life! (Kind, gentle and compassionate.)

 The next day we began making arrangements for her wake and funeral.  I remember my mom getting out of the car at the funeral home, taking a few steps and then falling to her knees, crying uncontrollably.  The day of her wake, as I walked into the funeral home, I saw her casket and I remember feeling like I couldn’t breathe.  The smell of flowers still makes me sick to my stomach to this day.  There was a line outside the door of the funeral home, full of people wanting to say goodbye to Veronica.  We had filled the room with things that reminded us of her; flowers, her coffee mug because she LOVED to drink coffee, pictures of her family and friends, her pom-poms, stuffed animals, awards and trophies…everything she loved and lived for, but would never be able to experience again.  We placed a bouquet of sunflowers in her hands, and put her beloved butterfly necklace around her neck.  We played her favorite music during the wake.  Some people chose to speak and share their memories of her; others mostly stood in shock. 

The next day, the funeral procession to her burial was at least 50 cars long.  When it was time to lower her into the ground, my mom bent down to her casket and whispered, “Goodbye…for now.”  Looking back, as sad as I was, I think I held up O.K.  It was watching my mom sobbing at the fact that her little girl, HER BABY,  who had so much promise and was so full of life two days prior, now was being lowered down into a dark and cold grave.  The sounds, the sights, and the smells of that day, are burned into our memory forever.  Without a doubt, that day was the most difficult of our entire lives.

I often wonder how our relationship would be like had she lived.  Would she be married and have kids of her own?  How neat it would be to be able to go shopping, or simply just have lunch with my sister.  Our holidays are hard, there’s always one less person at the dinner table, a few less gifts under the tree, and one less person wishing our mom a “Happy Mother’s Day”.  Even though the pain isn’t as raw, it is always present.  Her death changed our lives forever.    

If our story spares your family and friends the grief and pain that we have suffered, Veronica’s life and surely her death, were not in vain.

Buckling up takes two seconds, so please do so every time you get into a vehicle.  Trust us- it’s worth it.  

Thank you.

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